Seamus Finnigan and the Goblets of Firewhiskey
by noxlumen
Summary: Recreational potions, a bottle of Firewhiskey, and Apparating while ossified into a live action role play game. What could possibly go wrong? Includes: substance abuse, cross-dressing, slash,, historical misunderstandings, and a dodgy moral compass.


**_I do not own Harry Potter. Or Anything about Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling is the ruler of that particular universe. I'm just playing in the sand box._**

Something had gone terribly wrong in Seamus Finnigan's day. Right now he was having a bit of trouble sorting out what that was, but that was to be expected.

What ever "flying ointment" was supposed to be, buying anything from a Slytherin was likely a mistake. They were Slytherins, after all, and therefore dodgy as a discount buffet. Come to think of it, it was a bit remarkable that he' not yet puked, though at some point he did misplace his trousers. But it couldn't be the bottle of whiskey...it had to be Slytherin plotting.

The missing trousers he could get over, but not knowing how they came off was another matter. Was there a pretty lass involved? And did he leave her on speaking terms if there was? And most importantly, would she like her black leather mini skirt back when he was done wearing it?

That alone would not have been terrible. It wasn't the first time he's ended up in a skirt. 'Donald, Where's Your Trousers?' was all the more epic at a time like this. He began humming it as he walked down the sunny street. He wasn't sure what street that was since his vision was blurring slightly, but that was nothing new. He did know the sun was out and his bits were dripping sweat, but it was summer holiday, so that wasn't new either.

No, things got bad when the Muggle vicar started offering him paper money to get in his van. No good ever came of that. Even if the vicar had been a pretty lass. Though this one was an old dumpy man with a receding hair line and a bad comb-over, and Seamus was certain he's been mistaken for a rent boy.

Again.

So he Apparated.

What? He was clearly in mortal peril. It was a vicar, for fuck sake. That lot was even dodgier than Slytherins despite being Muggle. It was common knowledge that 'Jack the Ripper' was a vicar. It's why they never caught the sick bastard.

After he arrived in a new location, he did the standard check. No, he'd not splinched his twig and berries off this time. OK, the lust salve was still in his pocket along with his pipe. Yes, he had all the other extremities too. And all his internal organs and bones seemed to be in the right places. Experience had taught him that a kidney is not a bladder, and when drinking it was a _very_ big deal to mix them up with a splinch.

Apparition check done, he looked around to try and sort out _where_ he'd gone. Well, other then away from the randy vicar. It seemed to be a lovely clearing in a thick wood, and a nice breeze helped with the sweaty bits. He'd have preferred the sort of pub where they don't bother to card for spirits, but there were worse places to turn up.

Like a convent.

That was particularity painful when they could just lift a skirt out of the way.

Especially when you appeared out of nowhere in the showers.

So, thinking he was in the clear, he was about to try a 'point me' spell to figure out how to get home, or to a pub. He heard "Bloody Hell!" from behind him. Except if it was behind him, he'd not said that.

He turned to see an odd bunch. They were gathered around a small fire in a rock circle, and none of them were wearing trousers either. For that matter, they weren't wearing much at all. In the case of the dark haired flat lass, that wasn't so bad...but the other three should really cover up.

There was an assortment of waist drapings that looked to be made of furs and only really covered the important bits. They seemed to range from loin cloths to short skirts. The two skinny fellas in the group were topless, though one chubby fellow was wearing a vest that did nothing to hide his pot belly and saggy man-teets.

All three were painted in what looked like blue mud. And by painted he meant like when a toddler painted with their food on a window.

The flat lass had a chain link bra that was lined with white fur. He was hoping to find out if it was as soft as it looked. Long, narrow strips of deer skin in a v-shape were belted over her loin cloth and fell to mid calf, but left her slim hips mostly exposed. Not to mention willowy legs the went on forever, pale as fresh cream. He definitely planned to find out if he could get the rest of her skin bare.

But first things first. What happened? He quickly tried to do some calculations, and from two and two he came up with forty-two.

It was clear he'd traveled back in time by accident while fleeing from the randy vicar. And the lass was the high priestess of the primitive tribe he'd found, the men were her body guards, and he had some explaining to do.

"I'm not god!" There. That should clear things up. If the priestess thought he was a god, but not hers, she may not want to get naked. This way they didn't have to muck about with theology and could just get naked. After all, why wouldn't a priestess want to make babies with a powerful wizard? Especially since he could take her guards in a fight.

"Do you swear it?" the bloke with the man-teets asked. He stood dramatically and brandished a large but crude looking mace. The metal was so poorly worked Seamus thought it looked more like foam prop than a serious weapon. Given they would just be coming out of the stone age into the iron age, he decided it was to be expected.

"Hun?" Seamus asked with all the sophistication he had.

"Do you swear on your mother's grave that you're not a God? How do we know you're not the trickster?" the skinny four-eyes asked. He had a clumsy looking weapon too, clearly an early attempt at a machete.

"Oh, 'spose you've got a point there. But my mother doesn't have a grave yet." he pointed out wisely.

"Ok, then swear it on the most valuable thing you can think of. But you've got to mean it." the skinny fox-tailed guy declared. He has a machete as well, but had painted it blue for some reason.

Seamus rolled his eyes, but for the sake of a shag said "Easy. I swear to drunk I'm not god."

"To what?" the foursome asked at once.

"To drunk. I if I had a lover, that cold be better than getting drunk, but I don't. So that'll have to do." Seamus said firmly.

"Then how did you get here?" Man-teets asked him suspiciously.

Seamus was beginning to think he made Man-teets feel about as inadequate as he was, but clarified. "Magic. And that's rather important to me as well, since I can use it to get drunk. Want me to demonstrate how I turn water into rum?"

Ok, that last bit was a lie. But he wasn't about to explain his never-empty flask and risk having his head bashed in for it. He needed to get that lass's inhibitions out of the way somehow. Charm and animal magnetization only got a bloke so far.

Four-eyes snorted and commented "I thought it was 'water to wine'."

Seamus huffed and snapped out "Only if your a complete amateur." though since he still couldn't cast that spell, that would make _him_ the amateur, but now was not the time for honesty. He was trying to get his rocks off.

The lass spoke up, cutting off his plan A and disrupting his manly posturing as only a scantily clad lass can.. "Rum is all well and good, but how's that help you in a fight? We are in the middle of a quest, in case you missed that. If you can't take out a troll, what good are you?"

Little did she know, this played right into Seamus's sweaty palms. In theory. He excelled at explosion magic. Even when he meant to transfigure things. He just had to put enough power into any spell he cast, and he could knock a troll head over arse. It's not like they were _that_ big, right?

"You should have said. I was going to offer some refreshments for a meal, but if it's a hero you're in need of, I can fight for my food." he declared with all the chivalry he had.

"Right then. You better eat. We set of at noon. and you'll be needing you're strength." Fox-tail said as he passed a kebab.

Had Seamus been sober, he may have wondered about several things. Starting with why Muggles were fighting a troll at all, and ending with how his food tasted suspiciously like tinned meat, canned carrots, and instant hot chocolate. Perhaps even how one of them had gotten a pair of glasses.

He also should have considered that a lass who was fighting trolls may not be what she appeared, but he was a Gryffindor and she was nearly naked. And really, if a threesome of first years could take a troll, how bad could it be?

As the meal went on, he was much too busy flirting to ask important questions about the quest. Like what an 'En Pea Sea' was. Or if she was a healer, were exactly was she hiding her potions bag. And when asked how long he'd been doing 'Larp', he thought it was local slang for magic, and said since he was about six.

He was also too busy stripping the priestess with his mind to notice they had introduced themselves. With names and all. One even recited a family accomplishment list going back several generations. But who really cares about that stuff when you have to figure out how to operate a primeval bra? All that stuck was 'barbarian, assassin, assassin, and the smoking hot lass was indeed a priestess'.

He tuned back in to the conversation when it came to battle strategy. After all, nothing killed the mood quite like a very public belting. He had extensive experience to back that up.

So the battle plan was that Man-teets would pull the troll's attention while the assassins threw poison bags. He was to hang back with the priestess and provide long range support with his spells and 'Aih Oh Eeh' if the troll got too close to her. Seamus didn't quiet know what the last bit was, but 'protect the priestess' was clear enough.

There were five of them and one troll. He had someone to keep it occupied. He was sure it would be fine.

Man-teets covered the remaining coals by dumping a tin a bucket of dirt on the pit. Then they set off into the woods following the hand drawn map the 'En Pea Sea' gave the group to find the treasure. About 15 minuets walk had them looking at the cave entrance, and they huddled up behind near by shrubs.

"Right, you two use this cover. We'll go lure out the troll." Man-teets stage whispered, mace at the ready.

They got in formation and moved in, Man-teets shouting and making a general ruckus the whole way, flailing far more wildly than a clunky weapon like his should have allowed. It was almost as if it was mostly made of air. He may not be fit, but Seamus had to give the bloke credit for sheer bollocks.

What came out of the cave didn't look like any troll he could remember. In fact, it looked rather like a drunk bag lady in a bad mask. As the skinny blokes poison bags started flying, he decided he could just scare the bint off with a blast near her feet. An attempted levitation charm had the dirt flying quite impressively, and she seemed to faint on the spot.

"Nice kill shot." the priestess commented, then ran to join the group to claim the treasure. Seamus would have said something clever, but clearly she didn't know what a jaw dropping view she was giving him. His circulation was crashing south fast as near half her tiny bottom peaked out of her skirt, swishing cutely as she moved.

Then he remembered caves could have bears, and decided he better catch up. "Hold up. Are we sure there's nothing else in there?" he called. Bear attacks could make the naked thing harder to manage.

"He's right. Everybody stay sharp." Man-teets agreed.

They gathered at the entrance, and one of the assassins used his walking stick to prod and poke about, hopefully out of range of any beasts. Since it was less a cave and more a large dent in a rock face on closer inspection, it didn't take long for them to deem it safe and grab the big velvet sack from inside.

The walk back to camp was cheerful and involved a fair bit of the group gushing about how impressive he'd been. Ok, the whole group had been impressive, but the bits about him were the important stuff.

Once they got to the fire pit, 'amulets' from the treasure bag were passed around, and they even had one for him. His looked like a shark tooth on a leather cord, and promised a stat bonus of five to his wit. He was doubtful it would do anything, but it looked cool so he put it on. The assassins retrieved their dice and got into a heated debate over who got agility and who got speed.

Between fighting, walking, and treasure, time had really flown by. Everyone had worked up an appetite, and it was apparently Man-teets turn to cook tea. While he bustled about starting a new fire, the priestess offered to show Seamus more of the camp.

Alone? With an under-dressed female? He didn't need to be asked twice.

It turned out that just behind the trees and bushes was a tent of sorts. The priestess called it a 'yurt'. The round structure looked surprisingly sophisticated from the outside, but then she asked him to come inside. There were eastern rugs all over the floor, making it down right cozy. Plush bags covered in velvet or fur littered the center, and there was a low table to make a sitting area. Hanging from the roof supports near the curved wall were four grand drapes of fabric that hid bedding

The priestess walked over to a drape that looked thick as a duvet and sprawled on...something bed-like. There was a wide wicker and bent wood framework peaking out from a cushion to form a large nest-like structure. A short structure of the same material kept it just off the ground. There were several soft looking pillows on either end, and it was clearly large enough for two. Well, large enough for two to shag, anyway.

That's about when Seamus remembered that he'd not had a chance to get the rum out. His still intoxicated mind raced as fast as it could for a way to 'help' a pair of knickers evaporate. Then he remembered his splinch check verified that the lust salve was still in his shirt pocket.

He slyly coated his thumb in the potion guaranteed to spike someone's sex drive. The old 'you have a smudge, let me get that.' trick had not failed him yet. And she was clearly interested, so it would just add a bit of spice. Not morally suspect at all.

He joined her in the nest, admittedly a bit more awkwardly than he'd planned. Ok, so he nearly capsized the whole thing, but it could happen to anyone. It turned out that the top moved around on the pedestal if you weren't careful.

Since the shift landed her in a straddled position right on top of him, it wasn't all bad. She reached out and fiddled with something on the drape. It fell to block most of the light and sounds of the woods around them, a sort of private tent within the tent. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the small peak of sun coming from where the sides joined.

He was about to rub his thumb over her lips when she...did something so hot his brain shorted out. She sucked his whole thumb in her mouth and did something quite lewd with the tip of her tongue. He just about burst in his...mini skirt. Then while his mouth was still open in shock, he found that skilled mouth totally molesting his. Since she could do that lewd thing to his tongue as well, he kind of forgot how to breath.

And the potion hadn't even had a chance to start working yet.

This would be about the time he realized he may have bitten off a bit more than he could chew. Generally it took him more work to get a girl to mount him and snog him senseless. Then again, most girls he knew didn't wear fur lined chain bras or go hunting for trolls. Well, Granger hunted for trolls, but Seamus always suspected that one wasn't really a girl. And flat or not, they didn't generally shove one of his hands up their bra.

The poor dear really was flat as a board. All he found under the chain was nipple and silken fur that was just as nice to touch as he thought. But he was a gentleman, so instead of commenting on the lacking bust, he pinched and tugged and rolled the tiny lump for all he was worth. Given the way she was grinding her bottom into his groin, he was clearly doing something right.

She pulled away, panting hard and licking her lips. Her dark eyes glinted in the low light like a cat ready to pounce. He was about to chase after that lovely mouth when she shifted downward and hiked up his skirt.

Funny, he hadn't noticed his underpants were missing as well. Considering that made it really easy for her to swallow him to the root and repeat that lewd thing she did to his thumb and tongue, he didn't think to find them either. Then again, he didn't really think anything given his brains were being sucked out.

Who knew primitive girls could suck the gold off a snitch?

He was quite sure he's burst in that wicked mouth when the little minx grabbed his bollox and tugged. Not brutally so, but just enough that he couldn't finish, and it was going to take a bit to get back to the edge. He was beginning to think this lass had a bit of practice at grabbing a bloke by the bollox when she came back up for more snogging.

Topless.

Bloody hell.

But as fun as that had been, he'd had quite enough of passively enjoying himself. He was a gentleman after all, and had a responsibility as such to return the favor. He rolled them over, tilting the bed again, so he could have at her buttery soft skin.

At some point it should have occurred to him that kissing from her neck to the nipple he'd worked over with a potion covered thumb and suckling was not his best ideal ever. But it didn't, so he got himself an extra dose of lust that he really didn't need. Especially on top of a lass mewling like that.

As she writhed and moaned and angled most over her upper body into his nips and kisses, he decided it was time to get rid of that leather draped around her hips. The belt was knotted around the metal ring much tighter than he expected, but she wasn't likely to realize his struggles just then. Once he got it open, he found it went around her slim waist twice. Determined, he waited till she shifted her hips up, desperate for friction, then yanked at the belt's center to pulled it free.

On the up side, the belt was all that was keeping her dressed.

On the down side, without that strip of leather between her legs and the panels on top, it was very clear this was not a female.

Seamus froze in shock.

He stared in disbelief.

But that was definitely one more set of twig and berries than should have been in the bed.

Then the potion kicked in, on top of the fire whiskey, and rum, and 'flying ointment'. And he decided he'd worry about snogging another bloke later. Like after he'd gotten his rocks off. Preferably repeatedly.

Having never been with a bloke, he decided his skill set was best applied lower. After all, the pucker was basically the same for everybody, so he knew what to do with that. While he worked on getting that slick and ready for more with his mouth and fingers, he pulled out every trick he'd learned about wanking to keep his partner occupied. And he'd wanked quite a lot.

Egged on by the way those slim hips trust into his tongue and fingers, he thought that the priestess had likely done this before as well.

"Inside! Now! Before I-" he heard. He wasn't sure how ready that pucker was, or what it could take, so he flipped them again and let the priestess take over.

Seamus continued to think of his bedfellow as a girl, despite the very obvious evidence to the contrary. Evidence that was leaking on his belly in enthusiasm. He didn't have enough concentration left to deal with gender issues.

So as he saw it, _she_ grabbed his shaft and _she_ slammed down on him, then _she_ rode him with wild abandon. And since hips don't lie, _she_ made it very clear that _she_ was very ready, willing, and able.

And if that's how it was...he rolled them back so he was on top and let loose. The priestess grabbed onto the bed frame for leverage, shifted their angle slightly, then let dark lashes flutter shut in bliss.

The slim hips Seamus gripped kept right on moving into his, helping his thrusts and matching his rhythm. Those mile long legs wrapped around his back to add more leverage, amplifying the slapping sounds of their sweat damp skin colliding. It only made him falter for a moment as the bed shifted, angling their heads down, but he'd gotten used to the balance shifts by then and kept right at it.

All too soon that opening clamped down hard on his throbbing shaft and he felt a warm splash hit his belly where his shirt rucked up. The added tightness and spasms pulled him over the edge a moment after. It took all he had to shift to one side and not land on the body under him, but he managed.

At first there was nothing but that melted feeling that Seamus always got after a good shag. All warm and so relaxed he kind of turned into a puddle on whatever surface he collapsed on. Like always, his senses opened, amplified, and took in details he generally missed.

Sounds of breathing, the drumbeat of his heart as it slowed and steadied. Bird song and gentle wind in the trees, sweat cooling on his heated skin, and the smell damp cotton. It was as close as a bloke like him got to nirvana, existing purely in the moment, if only for a moment.

"And here I was worried about letting my sister hook me up with a fuck buddy." The priestess admitted to him breathlessly.

"What?" He asked slowly. His circulation was still working it's way back to his brain right then, and he was so relaxed.

"Sure. Play dumb. But we both know you're the randy bloke form her computer programming class."

Wait...computers? As in Muggles?

The priestess stretched and rolled over to look at Seamus while talking. "She was right, too. I was way over due for a proper buggering, and it's thrown me way off. Wanking just doesn't release stress the same way."

The priestess pulled a cell phone from one of the pillows that hadn't been knocked off the bed and huffed. "Sorry. Gotta run. Mum will pitch a fit if I don't get the chores sorted before she gets home."

As Seamus's mind tried to catch up with the situation, what he's thought was a hot flat chested lass threw on perfectly normal bloke clothing.

The t-shirt looked like it had been in a war with all the holes and thins spots and stains it had. Much like Seamus's lucky shirt.

The cut-off denim shorts looked like they'd been swam in then tossed on the floor in a wet heap. Much like half his own shorts did, and all his trousers.

The sandals looked like they'd been chewed on by the family dog. Just like all Seamus's sandals, and his family didn't even own a dog.

So yeah, pretty much what Seamus would wear had he not lost his trousers...

Some time after the slim bloke with the long, dark hair and girly face left him, his mind started functioning. Kind of. Several thoughts surfaced, and all were troubling.

Firstly, his never-empty flask of rum was still in the missing trousers, and he really needed his booze right then. Also, he had not traveled back in time, but may have found an alternate dimension, or at least he hoped he did.

Finally, not only had he just shagged a bloke and liked it, but he'd just been 'wham bam, thank you, mam-ed' to boot, and he was getting his second wind...and no wonder girls got so mad when he did that. It was damned rude, now that he was on the reviving end.

And he still had no clue what Larp was.

One week later...

Seamus had sworn off...most recreational substances. He was using the mary jane to keep his cool and not freak about everything. But the rest had been dumped on other people so he could get his bearings. Except the rum flask because he'd still not found his trousers.

He never thought of himself as gay. Maybe he wasn't. Whatever he was, he couldn't get the little priestess out of his head. He had to find out if it was just the potions and booze, or if he was really hooked. Unfortunately he'd been too inebriated to find the clearing a second time since he didn't know how he found it the first time.

He looked up everything he could on the term Larp, starting with a call to Granger. Thank Merlin for phone books. It helped when he knew it meant 'Live Action Role Play'. As it turned out, being a Larp wizard was more fun than being a real wizard, and someday he planned to Larp on purpose and sober.

School snuck up on him like it always did. He still hadn't figured out what happened to the bloke he'd shagged or what it meant for his future. He was bummed, but starting to think it was for the best to call the incident a moment of insanity and forget the whole thing. With his new found almost-sobriety, he was so deep in thought that he ran right into another body.

His improved perefrial vision picked up a blue and copper flash. Shit. Ravenclaws were often narks. He could practically taste the oncoming detention. Until he looked directly at the person he needed to grovel to and recognized her, no, him.

A familiar voice scolded "Watch where you're walking! Wait, Seamus? No way. You're _that_ Seamus? Well this could get awkward."

Seamus had looked up to see a student he'd never noticed before. Well, to be fair he didn't notice blokes who weren't trying to kill him for snogging other people's girlfriends. Except for this bloke. His priestess went to Hogwarts too, and was looking a bit horrified. Seamus was feeling a bit horrified himself for not noticing he'd hooked up with a classmate.

Well, so much for pretending it never happened...though he should probably find out what the bloke's name was, seeing as they shagged and all.

 _ **AN: This is almost a challenge fic. A friend who also writes fanfic was talking about under used characters in fandom that left a lot of wiggle room for a writer. I suggested Seamus. He pointed out that Seamus got very little love because he's a dimwitted two-faced selfish backstabbing traitor with a surplus of ego and may be an alcoholic besides.**_

 _ **But hey, some times writing an asshole is exactly what it takes to shake of some writers block.**_


End file.
